


Escape

by sansalannistark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Jaime Marries Sansa AU, Jaimsa Smut Week, Married Couple, Pregnancy, Romance, Sansa is aged up, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansalannistark/pseuds/sansalannistark
Summary: Jaime finds his wife in the Godswood, wishing for more in her marriage. He grants her request.





	1. The Colours In Disguise

**Author's Note:**

> A very flowery Jaime-marries-Sansa fic, for Jaimsa Smut Week! Prompt was: First Time.
> 
> Sorry for tense or spelling errors - I’m behind on my schedule and I’ve already proofed once but it’s a longer oneshot and I’m lazy. I’ll go through it at a later date!

The sun had begun to fall below the line of trees, dusting the blue sky above the sea with a spread of orange and pink, but Sansa was in no mind to enjoy the view. Brushing a hand across her red cheeks, she hurried along the path to the Godswood without hesitation until she found a suitably isolated spot below the hart tree she favoured. Only then did she allow herself to cry, wrapping her arms around her as her body shook involuntarily. She had been so well practiced at hiding her emotions at court that she couldn’t help but berate herself for this emotional outpouring, even if it was away from Cersei’s watchful gaze. In truth, Sansa had no idea why she had began to drown in her own sorrows at this moment, but she had been readying herself for court when her family’s demise had come to mind and she had realised that she couldn’t bear it any longer, how utterly alone she was. Disloyal though it may be, she had wished that Jaime had come to her. His company was a dark craving of hers; one that no doubt her family would have hated. Nevertheless, he had shown her nothing but overwhelming kindness, putting an end to the beatings she had endured for the last two years and becoming, completely surprisingly, a confidant to her. “Gods, forgive me,” she whispered to herself. Jaime was the only one she trusted - the only Lannister especially - to keep her secrets and being her comfort without risk of being discovered and punished for it.

She was ensconced in the silence of the trees when a low footfall met her ears. Sansa braced herself, looking up in fear until she recognised the cream leather of his surcoat and relaxed, wiping the remnants of her tears from her face.

Jaime’s face was tight with worry, but as soon as he clamped eyes on her he stopped, letting out a low sigh. “I was worried about you,” he said, hovering at the edge of the clearing uncertainly.

“I needed some escape.”

Jaime nodded sadly and walked towards her, sitting beside her at the base of the tree. “You’ve been crying,” he started, reaching out to wipe the dampness from her cheeks. She could feel the warmth of his skin as his thumb brushed her cheek and held back a sob. Would that he could be hers. Jaime was not, no matter how fervently she wished it were so. Even though he was her husband, Sansa wondered if he cared for her as she did him. He had done not bedded her, though she knew that on their wedding night, he had not yet had chance to tell her about Bran. Nevertheless, in the moons since, having become friends, he had not once made any romantic advance towards her.

Jaime must have noticed her discomfort, because he prised her clenched hands apart and squeezed her hand. “Sansa,” he murmured, “look at me.” Perhaps it was the pleading in his tone, but Sansa did as she was bid, raising her head slowly as she choked back at whimper at the sympathy in his gaze. Jaime must have understood, because he simply reached out and pulled we against him. This time she did let out a sob, and tears continued to slide down her cheeks as her eyes squeezed shut. Burying her head in his chest, she shut out the rest of the world. Jaime was the only Lannister she would ever let touch her again, and only because he knew when he could and when he should. “Sansa, breathe, little wolf. Breathe. You’re safe,” he said.

“Jaime...” she breathed, sliding her hands tentatively round his body until she was clutching him tighter. He rubbed a hand over her hair in response.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” Sansa nuzzled her head into his chest. Damn propriety, damn her betrayals. He had saved her. It was more than her own family had been able to do.

“I was worried about you. I didn’t want you to stay out here alone,” he added, continuing to run a hand over her hair. “It’s getting dark. You’ll catch your death of chill.” Jaime smiled, but he must have seen her anxiety because his face fell. “Sansa? What is it? What did I say?”

“You care about me,” she said, “you have seen to my comfort and safety, but yet you have never kissed me, you refused to bed me on our wedding night.”

“Sansa...”

Sansa trembled in his arms. “I understand why you did not bed me that night, but you told me about Bran that same moon. We have been close for many moons now, yet you have not consummated the marriage, nor expressed any desire for me. I had thought... I had thought you wanted me. You seemed to want me, when I caught you looking at me....”

“Jaime, I just want the truth.” Sansa fought to keep the waver from her voice. Jaime shot her a look of sympathy, brushing her jaw with his thumb.

“It is not a question of my wanting you.” Jaime cradled her face in his hand. “It is a question of your wanting intimacy. I would not have you when you are unsure, or unprepared. I did not want it to be unloving.”

“I love you now,” she murmured, chancing a smile. Jaime chuckled.

“I know that, my sweet. As I love you. If you are certain it is what you want.... with your permission?” Jaime tapped her lower lip and she returned the motion with a soft nod.

Jaime reached for her hand, twining their fingers as he pulled her to her feet. Resting his gold hand hesitantly on her hip, he guided her away from the open space surrounding the weirwood and towards a more secluded brush where he laid his cloak and set her down upon it.

Jaime began slowly, giving her any number of opportunities to stop him. His good hand travelled up her side, drifting from the dip of her waist past her ribs. No doubt he could feel her bones beneath her skin and the thin silk of her dress, for he hesitated, running a hand back over her thin frame. Sansa didn’t wish to dwell upon her malnourishment and reached for his hand to nudge him along. His hand slid around to the back of her long neck, cupping it softly and curling slightly in her red mane. Sansa parted her lips, sighing inaudibly and allowing her eyes to flutter shut.

The cool touch of metal at her waist told her that Jaime was supporting her with his golden hand. He dipped down to press his mouth against her plump lips, kissing her gently as she let out a squeak of surprise. Jaime sucked on her bottom lip for a moment and Sansa shuddered and kissed him back. Jaime continued sucking and biting lightly, alternating between kissing her and focusing attentions on each lip until they were plump and red. For a moment, he drew back, but when she let out a mournful whine, he smirked and attacked her lips again. Sansa found herself reciprocating with even more enthusiasm, her hands seeking skin, clutching his back as she wrapped herself around him. Jaime growled and clutched harder at her hair, and before she understood, had slid his tongue inside her mouth. Sansa couldn’t think clearly, but her chest was heaving as she tried to breathe properly against the onslaught of his mouth.

“Jaime, Jaime...” she pleaded, pushing slightly against his chest, feeling like she might suffocate if he didn’t stop. Jaime broke away from her and pulled back, his eyes wide and mouth parted in horror.

“Gods, Sansa, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“

No, no, I don’t want to stop,” she said earnestly. “That’s not it at all. I’m just a little out of breath.” Sansa laughed and reached for Jaime’s hand. “Honestly, Jaime, I’m just not used to it. Please, continue,” she added in a whisper.

Jaime chuckled under this breath. “Such an eager, passionate little wolf,” he teased, tilting her chin up.

Sansa rolled her eyes at him, but she knew his words had affected her when she felt a heat pooling in the depths of her stomach. She blushed fervently, a smile a the corner of her lips as Jaime ran his fingers over her cheeks and brushed back stray stands of red hair. Sansa tilted her head up to kiss him again, far more vigorously as she tasted him. Her hands fisted tightly in his hair as she sought his tongue with her own.

“Jaime...?”

Distracted by her sweet mouth, he found it rather difficult to reply. “Mmm, yes, little wolf?”

Sansa knew enough from watching Jaime the past few moons to know that he was aroused. His eyes were dark and his skin warm to the touch. He was burning with it as much as she herself was.

“Will you make love to me?”

“Whatever my lady wants,” was all he said as he reached behind her to pluck at the laces of her gown. His mouth sought hers, distracting her yet again with more kisses.

It was good to be wanted; good to be desired, and to be loved.

Sansa twisted, reaching behind to aid her husband in loosening the laces of her gown so that slippery material is able to slide off her shoulders like water. Taking advantage of the newly exposed skin, Jaime left her swollen lips, nipping lightly and tracing a pattern down the hot skin of her neck, following the thrum of her blood until his lips found her shoulder. A smattering of stray kisses across the expanse of her collarbone had her poised with suspense. Jaime licked a line back up her neck in the most salacious manner and sucked hard against her pulse point, sending her into a dizzy euphoria. Breath hitched, Sansa’s hands flew forwards to grab at his tunic, pulling him further into her warm body. Never had she thought to feel such a peaceful solitude, closer than she had been with anyone.

Grasping his wrist with her slender hands, she motioned for him to remove her corset. As he worked the silken material from her body, she reached for the ties on his own tunic and shirt and revealed his naked torso so her gaze. Sansa stared, transfixed by the hard muscle and the scars crossing Jaime’s chest and reached out with a shaking hand to trace the slight bumps and ridges with her finger. “You never told me about all of these,” she swallowed, sucking in a breath at the thicker and longer marks. Indeed, Jaime had told Sansa very few stories of his younger days. She knew little of where his scars had come from, and still nothing of the loss of his hand. She hoped that one day he might wish to confide in her.

“They’re only battle scars, little wolf.” Jaime replied fondly while he stroked her cheek. “You’ll find few men without them.”

“And women?”

Instantly, she felt regretful, watching the guilt surface in his face, but far more worried for her own insecurities. Cersei, she was certain, did not bear such ugliness.

“You’ve seen what they... what they did.”

“Sansa, you mustn’t think that your scars make you ugly. I don’t think you could ever be ugly.” Sansa’s head remained bowed and he could feel her hand quivering as it idly traced his chest. Jaime clasped at the wandering hand, squeezing softly. “Look at me, please, sweetling,” he implored. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jaime, please. I couldn’t bear it.”

“I am not lying, Sansa. I swore to myself only to be honest with you.”

“Why does no one care like you do? You’re a Lannister...” she trembled, “Of all the people I might have thought could ever care...”

Jaime cupped her face between his hands - metal and flesh . “Sansa, do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, I trust you, Jaime. I trust you, I trust you...”

When he moved behind her, he could feel the anticipation radiating from her flushed and warm flesh. Jaime began mouthing the pale white lines running across her back, stroking each one with his thumb as she had done with him. Sansa was supple, melting in his arms like warm leather, her throat humming with those sweet little moans she tried so hard to muffle. Jaime began suckling gently on he neck, hard enough to feel the vibrations of her sweet noises, soft enough to leave her unmarked. Sansa let out a contented sigh and tipped her head backwards so that he could better reach her skin. She hadn’t known that this was possible for her: to be reduced to a quivering mess of want, to be touched intimately with pleasure and not pain.

Sansa’s hands wandered of their own accord. She was far too busy getting lost in Jaime’s wicked attentions, like the way his hand ran up her side, eliciting a shiver from her despite the heat of her fiery skin. Her head fell into his shoulder as he found her breasts, stroking lightly over one taut nipple, then the other, teasing a moan from her parted lips. He answered her with a groan and she felt his hardness against her thigh. The moment he started moving his lips around her rosy buds, biting just-so, Sansa gasped sharply; it was becoming difficult not to interrupt the silence of the Godswood with her cries of pleasure.

“Let go, sweet girl, there’s no one to hear.”

The thickness of his voice inflamed her, and his lips... his lips inflicted her with an exquisite satisfaction, tugging from her sinful songs with which to litter the cool air of the evening. Sansa’s head fell back, her hands clenching at his waist, their mouths a litany of sighs. The tremors that rocked her from the inside out and the curling feeling in her stomach as Jaime ravished her with his mouth, it was too much and not enough. Every one of his ministrations had her shuddering; it almost made her fearful of their joining. If he could bring her to such heights with his lips and tongue alone...

“Sansa, sweet girl, can I touch you?” Jaime interrupted with a tap to her inner thigh. He had bunched the skirts at her waist and was watching her carefully. If she was less ladylike, she might have muttered _finally_ , though she was not sure how ladylike it was to allow him to strip her bare and bring her to such pleasure in the Godswood.

“Yes, yes, Jaime... please,” she hastened to add. Even with his hands hovering at her most private parts, she would not forget her courtesies.

“Pleasing you is entirely what I intend to do.” Jaime smirked in her exasperation and traced his fingers around the skin at the inside of her thighs, drawing closer to he hot centre every time, until she was utterly restless, gripping his arm in desperation.

The sensation of his hands on her womanhood was beyond comprehension. Her mother had always told her that to lie with a man and satisfy his whims in the marital bed was her duty as a wife. Jaime broke her preconceptions with every brush of his fingers. One moment they were running through her slick folds, the next his palm was pressing against her core and rubbing against her until she was squirming. Jaime’s stare did not leave her, watching as she expressed so avidly the bliss and the pleasure she felt, he eyes blown and her cheeks coloured as red as a harlot’s. Sansa bucked slightly in some fruitless attempt to faster find the release she so desperately wanted. Jaime dipped down for a moment, continuing to palm her through her small clothes as his tongue pushed into her mouth, swallowing her moans and mewls of delight.

There was little to warn her, except his delighted smirk, when he stopped touching her. Whining, Sansa slumped for a moment, only to find she had wildly underestimated him. Jaime’s fingers drifted across the junction between her legs and began to rub again, but this time when he touched her, there was a shock of warmth that pooled achingly low in her belly and a violent spasm passed through her body.

Jaime increased his speed, almost frantically circling the hard nub of flesh. Sansa was so close, half starved and panting with every movement of his fingers. Pausing for a second, he grinned again, dripping his head. She was utterly confused, but he must have understood because he sought to reassure her.

“Relax, lovely girl. I promise, you’ll get exactly what you want.”

“You don’t know what I want,” she gasped, watching his mouth hover above her hot, aching centre. Jaime was silent.

The first swipe of his tongue over her wetness had her keening. On the second, her hands flew up to tangle in his hair, a moan clamming in her throat. The third, when he plunged his tongue into her dripping core, elicited a cry of utter craving.

Sansa was keening and writhing wildly as he pleasured her with his tongue. Her movements were frantic, her moans impassioned and she felt her core quivering. She was burning, melting into nothingness, into something lighter than air where there was nothing to feel except longing. Jaime slid a finger inside of her damp heat, stroking deep inside her and Sansa howled, her body convulsing as her womanhood tightened around his fingers and tongue. When she stilled and began to recover he removed his finger and wrapped an arm round her to support her limbless body.

Sansa tipped her head up. “Jaime....” she whispers breathlessly. “That was... I... it was... thank you.”

Jaime’s stroked her damp hair, smiling. “I am glad that it brought you pleasure.”

“I wish to do the same for you,” she murmured, brushing his hair off his forehead, much as he had just done for her.

“Being with you, bringing you to your peak, that gives me pleasure, Sansa, though that is not to say that I would not enjoy burying my cock in your delectable cunt.”

“Jaime!” she exclaimed, batting him on the arm. “Must you always be so vulgar?”

He flashed her with a boyish grin. “You were the one, sweetling, who, if I recall, was moaning out for her husband not a moment ago.”

Sansa scowled. “That was entirely your fault.”

“Oh, Sansa, you are, of course, astute in your declaration.” He laughed boldly, kissing her briefly where she could taste herself on his lips. “I am not wrong, however, in presuming you are more than eager to feel such pleasure again, am I?”

“No, Jaime, you are not.” Sansa reached out for his golden hand. “Jaime, will you take this off?” He hesitated, searching her face for any sign of disgust, but there was none.

Sansa undid the buckles on the metal appendage, tossing it next to their clothes and exploring the healed skin with her fingers. She felt Jaime shiver under her touch, so she kissed all around the stump, watching as his eyes dilated.

She examined the raised marks of scarring with fascination before she noticed him staring at her. “Sorry,” she blushed, “I just wanted to see it.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re the first person to not stare at me like I’m some wounded mutt.”

“You’ll learn to fight again.”

“You are the kindest woman I have met, Sansa,” he told her earnestly. His eyes were clouded over and he looked as if he might cry. Tenderly, she reached up and wiped his watery eyes.

“You need not fear showing weakness with me, Jaime.”

“Thank you, Sansa.”

Jaime reached down to untie his breeches and gently pushed her to lie down once more. He looked at her solemnly, holding himself over her. “This will hurt at first, Sansa, for which I am sorry, though I will be as gentle as I can.”

“I know there will be pain, Jaime, but I trust you. I trust you to be gentle.”

Jaime hovered, his hard manhood brushing her wet slit. Both suppressing a moan, their mouths tangled for another kiss. Jaime began to slide the top of his hardness into her womanhood, easing slowly. As he slipped into her wet heat, Sansa felt her a slight pain as he took her maidenhood, though it was not as harsh as she had expected. “Are you alright?” he asked her, pausing so she could adjust to the sensation.

“I’m alright,” she managed. “Just... just go slowly. Jaime pushed further, her slick helping him to bury himself fully in her cunt. Sansa clutched his arm, eyes closed. “That feels... Gods, it feels good.”

“Is it... can I move...?”

“Yes. Now. Please.”

Jaime began to rock his hips, thrusting into her slowly. Sansa canted her hips up as her husband built up a steady pace. Breathlessness returned to her and Sansa gripped Jaime tight as she matched his pace. “Jaime... harder, more,” she panted.

He ran his tongue over her lips, coaxing whimpers from her soft lips as he began driving harder and faster into her core until his hips snapped against hers, his manhood hitting her in such a place that she couldn’t hold back her moans. Sansa found she couldn’t last much longer, indeed, she found her peak moments later, crying out his name for all to hear. Jaime continued to thrust, finding his own release and spilling his seed inside her. He pulled out of her, lying beside his wife and running a hand down her arm. “You can take moon tea, if you wish to wait-“

“No. I don’t wish to. I’ve waited long enough,” she jested. Jaime grinned back at her.

“That you have, sweet wife. Though if you want a babe, I believe we shall have work on this... a few more times. It will likely take more than one coupling to put a babe in your belly,” he said innocently.

Sansa laughed as Jaime wrapped his arms round her. “Of course, you are right, dear husband.”

“Perhaps we should try at least once a day,” he suggested with a smirk. “After all, my father does so want an heir.”

Wrapping the cloak around them, Jaime curled up, hugging Sansa to him. Somehow, the cool night air was less bone-chilling in the afterglow of lovemaking. She couldn’t possibly imagine why.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. A Place To Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm looking for a place to start,   
> And everything feels so different now,  
> Just grab a hold of my hand  
> I will lead you through this wonderland"   
> \- Yellow Light, Of Monsters and Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little idea but this time requested by @mynameisnoneya and @winterjons! Hope you enjoy, my lovelies <3 Complete and utter fluff, for which I make no apologies! I hope this remedies the angst I've recently delivered :D

Jaime blinked, resisting the onslaught of morning sun that slid through the chinks in the gauzy open curtains. Once, a young Jaime would have woken at the break of dawn, fighting on the training ground whilst the castle woke and broke their fasts, but martial life had broken this old tradition, and now, tangled as he was amongst the sheets and the warmth of his wife’s body, jaime felt the utmost reluctance to leave.

 

Even if he wished to, he could not possibly manage to escape her clutches. Jaime bit back a grin, twisting his neck to establish how much of his body was actually free and realising with considerable happiness that - with Sansa’s legs wrapped around his own and her head buried in his chest - it was rather excusable that they might both be absent this morning. His little wife was still asleep, but he himself was content enough to lay where he was, admiring the view of her pale skin that the lazily draped sheet allowed him. Jaime watched her, Sansa’s face relaxed in sleep, tracing a hand down her body until he reached her stomach, and spread his palm softly over the bump there. When she had told him she carried his child, he had been speechless, a feat which astounded her for its rarity, but even in the months since, the appeal of their having a babe had not worn off on him and he found delight in every little aspect of her pregnancy. He might be a father thrice over, but for the first time he would have a child that was truly his, and in that he could share the experience wholeheartedly with her: watching her body change, holding his child, being a father to them, in the way that Cersei had never allowed him to. Jaime shifted slightly down, so that his face was level with her protruding flesh, and stroked his thumb there, using his stump to support him as he lay on his side. Sansa made a little noise in her sleep, but she shifted and soon quietened. 

 

If any man saw him so enraptured as he was with the sight of his wife’s pregnant belly, Jaime might have killed them, but in the privacy of his and Sansa’s chambers he did not wishold the affection he held for her and their unborn babe.

 

“Hello, little one,” he whispered, bringing his lips close to her skin, “don’t kick, alright. Your mother must be tired.” He smirked, thinking of last night’s activities.“I don’t want to wake her.”

 

Jaime rested his head against the bump, closing his eyes for a moment and smiling as he kept his hand protectively on her stomach. Sansa’s body shifted, and when he looked up, blue eyes were watching him, fluttering in their sleepy state. “You’re talking to the babe,” she murmured, blinking and smiling softly. Sansa brought a hand up to her face and rubbed gently at her eyes and he shot her a sheepish look.

 

“Sorry I woke you.”

 

Sansa shook her head, moving slightly to grasp his arm and squeeze reassuringly. “It’s alright, Jaime, truly.” She smiled again, “It’s nice… to see you, talking to our babe.”

 

Jaime reached for her, gathering her in his arms and he maneuvered them both so he rested against the wall, his wife sitting between his legs as he curled his arms round her and placed his hand over hers where they rested on her stomach. “I love you both,” he said, brushing his lips over her temple and nuzzling his nose into the lavender scent of her thick red waves.

 

“I know.” The fondness in her tone did not escape him and he thanked whatever nameless gods there were for letting him have this life with her; a life he would never have wanted, but would never let go now he had it. “Do you think it’s a little girl, or a boy?”

 

“I think that I’d love either… in fact,” he added, pressing a kiss to her neck and hearing her surprised yelp, “I would rather like both.  _ I _ think we should have many, many children, sweet girl… if you should wish it.”

 

“You know I want as many children as we can, Jaime,” she affirmed, craning her neck to kiss him properly. Lazily, as he usually preferred to be, Jaime stroked his fingers through Sansa’s hair and deepened the kiss, relishing in her longing and her desire as she let out a small mewl.

 

“You are exquisite,” Jaime breathed, resting his thumb on her swollen lips and studying her flushed face. Under his hard gaze, Sansa’s blush grew and she tried to shy away but Jaime caught her face in his hand. “I mean it, Sansa. My beautiful wife. Mother of my child.”

 

“If you’re not careful, I’ll become vain and egotistical!” she exclaimed, swatting him playfully. Jaime roared with laughter.

 

“Like myself, is that what you are suggesting, my love?”

 

“I did not say that!” Sansa gave him a look of the utmost affront. “Though truly, Jaime, I am grateful for your words. No one else, I am certain, could be such a loving husband. Our baby will be lucky to have you.”

 

“You flatter me.”

 

“I speak only the truth,” she replied earnestly. Jaime stared at her in wonder, feeling touched by her own words. Only Sansa had ever managed to stun him into such a state, and often did her sweet murmurings and touches render him as vulnerable as he was at this moment. Since he mother’s death he had not felt such a genuine love, but in the arms of his wife, carrying their child, he finally felt the affection he’d been missing.

 


End file.
